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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120305">Sweet Treats</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofreylo/pseuds/ladyofreylo'>ladyofreylo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BlacKkKlansman (2018), Girls (TV), Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, This Is Where I Leave You (2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adam Driver - Freeform, Adam Driver characters, Adam Sackler - Freeform, Ben Solo - Freeform, Children, Clyde Logan - Freeform, Drabble, Family, Flip Zimmerman - Freeform, Fluff, Halloween, Kind of Reylo, Kylo Ren - Freeform, Phillip Altman - Freeform, Reader-Insert, reader X, toothrotting fluff, trick or treat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:08:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120305</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofreylo/pseuds/ladyofreylo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween Drabbles Reader X Adam Driver Characters:  Sackler, Flip, Clyde, Kylo, Ben, and Phillip.</p><p>Enjoy the sweet treats.  Happy Halloween.</p><p>CW:  Children, Halloween, Trick or Treating</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam Sackler/Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Clyde Logan/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Trick or Treat, Smell My Feet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to FlavorofKylo for alpha and beta reading these drabbles.  Happy Halloween!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adam and the littles are upstairs finalizing costumes and putting on cat whisker makeup. The girls were committed to both being kitties.  You hear the giggles from the girls and the roars of their father as he teaches them how to meow “trick or treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dig the big red plastic bowl out from the cupboard and start opening a bag of candy.  Adam will take the girls around the neighborhood while you stay behind on the porch to hand out candy. It’s been that way since the littles could toddle holding their dad’s big fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Adam shrieks behind you with a wild caw.  You jump and toss the half open bag into the air, scattering candy on the floor.  The girls laugh and grab the chocolate bars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adam,” you admonish.  You turn and see him in a feathered mask with a huge plume that sticks up over his head.  He looks like an exotic bird with a scruffy beard and beady brown eyes.  He giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head at his unrepentant smile.  He leans in to give you a feathery kiss.  He is thoroughly ridiculous, but you know you would let him fuck you with that damn thing on his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls, meanwhile, being their father’s daughters, have managed to stuff at least two candies into their mouths.  They are a chewy chocolate mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ladies,” Adam booms.  “You’re messing up your whiskers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hand him a wet-one without comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kneels and dabs at each face lightly.  They climb on him and chew in his ear.  He lifts both of them up in his strong arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell mom bye.  Let’s get your bags and go out trick or treating.” He slides them both down his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they walk out the door, you hear your goofy husband, Adam Sackler, chanting:  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trick or Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Supreme Leader</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kylo comes home from a hard day of Supreme Leadering to get ready for a Halloween party at his mother's.<br/>Please enjoy a little Canon divergent treat today.  Happy Halloween to everyone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Kylo's children<br/>Reader X</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You hear the heavy tread of boots down the hall.  Good, your husband is finally on his way.  His meeting must have run late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sweeps in, cape flapping behind him, and two little projectiles race toward him at light speed.  He picks one up while the other clings to his leather-clad thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grrrrr,” he says through his voice modulator.  He reaches down and plucks the other child up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, sweetie, you’re late.  We have to rush to get to your mom’s party.”  You step up to pat his chest and look into his mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grrrr,” he repeats with a different, more agonized tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take the helmet off, Dada,” one child says.  She reaches up to press a button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me, let me,” the other one insists.  They press the releases for your dark and brooding husband’s helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down you go,” he says half-modulated, half-normal voiced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drops the kids and pulls his helmet off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh each and every time his face is revealed.  The thick hair, the plushy lips, honey eyes, and peppering of moles on pale skin.  Yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going like this,” he says.  “No time to change.  Line up, littles.”  His tone is brusque, his face frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kids stand at attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm,” Kylo says, narrowing his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sneak a small smile behind your hand.  They all look so serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kylo glances at you. He feels your grin and raises a brow at you.  You give him a blinding smile, full of love.  He returns it for a brief second, so fast you might have missed it, if you didn’t know he was a softie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your day?” he rumbles at the kids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One does a little happy dance and the other rolls her eyes and glowers at him.  She is looking more like her grandmother every day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kylo and you exchange a look over her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pats both kiddos on their heads.  “Inspection time over.  Looking good, my children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get dressed for your grandmother’s party.  She wants to see how you look in your costumes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two littles run toward their quarters, shouting and jostling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kylo rakes a hand through his lush hair and sits, all manspread with his thighs apart.  You are tempted, so tempted to… do something.  Sit on his big lap, kneel in front of him, run your hands up his thighs to his…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches you staring and gives you a knowing look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not enough time,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never,” you sigh.  You lean in and rest on hand on a thigh.  You kiss him lightly and squeeze the taut muscle under your hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps a gloved paw around your neck and parts your lips.  Your big supreme leader eats you hungrily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed you,” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same,” you reply before he presses his tongue between your lips again.  “K, I have to dress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better to undress,” he says, nipping your ear and sliding your hand further up his leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later.”  You reluctantly withdraw from his hot mouth and the look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nip into the bedroom to put on your costume, such as it is.  A t-shirt and a pair of linen pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kids have already changed and are out in the living quarters showing their big father their costumes.  You hear the chirp of their young voices accompanied by Kylo’s deep rumbling voice.  The sound makes you smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walk out into the room.  Three pairs of eyes are on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kylo’s mouth drops open, as you knew it would.  The kids begin to giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother!” The little one points.  “Mother…”  She can’t get the words out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you get that t-shirt?” Kylo asks in a dangerously low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On Naboo, weeks ago.  Just getting around to wearing it,” you say, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Mother, I think Father is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kylo cuts his child off.  He traces the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Supreme Leader</span>
  </em>
  <span> emblazoned on your t-shirt.  “No, no… she’s right.  Your mother is, in fact, the Supreme Leader of us all.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Irrepressible Parent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Team Altman in the house!  Phillip Altman turns from irredeemable asshole to irrepressible parent.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to Flavor of Kylo for helping me out with these drabbles.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Phillip Altman, irredeemable asshole, has turned into “irrepressible parent” since he met and married you.  He traded in his Porsche for a Suburban and his cigarettes for a coach’s whistle.  He is all in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You text him on Halloween late afternoon that you are going to be a little late home.  You were planning to trick or treat as a family, but you can’t guarantee you’ll be there before it starts.  He tells you not to worry.  He will take care of everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ask if he knows where the costumes are.  He sends winky emojis.  In the old days, before Phillip became a reformed rake, you might have been worried, but not now.  You know that he is at the top of his game as a father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rush your work as much as possible, drive home as the light fades, and let yourself into the house. The porch light is on and a bowl of candy has been left on a chair.  It is now almost empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groups of kids are wandering up and down the street.  They wave and call to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You add to the candy and call your tall handsome guy on his cell.  “Phillip?  Where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here!” he says.  “Down the street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look and see him waving.  He’s pushing the stroller with the toddler in it.  He bends down to show her where you are.  She waves and shouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare at the other two as they bound up the street.  You begin to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phillip grins as he walks toward you.  The two littles rush you and hug your legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mommy,” Phillip intones.  He opens his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grab the kids’ hands and walk toward him, still laughing.  “You nut,” you say and kiss him on his handsome face.  His beard tickles your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the heck did you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phillip picks up the youngest one from the stroller.  He pulls the others toward him.  “Stand still and let mommy look at you,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two little hockey players stand in front of you encased in small pads and little helmets--and with jerseys that read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Team Altman: Shop Altman’s Sporting Goods Today</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  The toddler has a tiny jersey on with the same message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head.  “Unbelievable.  What happened to our ghost, kitty cat, and ninja?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naw,” he says.  “This is better.  Free advertising.”  His grin says it all.  “It’s what you get when you leave me in charge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touche, pussycat,” you murmur as he winks at you.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. One Bad Apple</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Flip Zimmerman is a Halloween scrooge.  Razor blades in apples?  Really?  Isn't that a myth?</p><p>Enjoy the daily sweet treat!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Flip Zimmerman,” you say in exasperated tones.  “You are a Halloween scrooge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You zip up one little’s jacket and then the next while they wiggle to get away.  Flip stretches and crosses one leg over the other.  He slaps his thighs and catches one wiggling child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am not.  I love Halloween,” he says.  “Hold still for mama.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s your costume?” you ask, twitching your princess skirt behind you as you stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at his red plaid flannel shirt.  “This,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kids run to grab their bags for trick or treating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That? You wear that blasted shirt every day.  It’s almost a rag,” you say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like this shirt.  I’m going as a cop,” Flip says.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a cop,” you say, patiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s a good costume,” he answers oh-so-reasonably.  He grunts as a kid barrels over and leaps on top of him.  “Oof, look out.”  He settles the boy on one big thigh.  “I like your dress better, though.”  He eyes your blue satin bodice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile at him and give your big husband a bit of a curtsey.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flip reaches out a big hand and tugs you close.  You lean in for a red-lipped kiss on his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Humpf,” he says and clasps your hips with two hands.  He yanks you down on his lap.  You squeak as your bottom lands on his other thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” shouts the other child.  He crawls up into your lap while you laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flip gasps.  “I’m smooshed, smooshed!”  He doesn’t seem too upset as you nuzzle in and rub your nose against his hair.  You breathe in his woodsy scent.  He turns his head to look into your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You share a quick, soft kiss, arms full of boys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You push everyone up.  “All right, let’s go.  Flip, you’re handing out candy while we’re gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” he says, standing up.  “I’m going with ya.  I have to make sure you don’t take any apples.  Crazy people put razor blades in them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kids stop and stare at their dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You jab your husband in the ribs.  “Honest to Pete, Flip Zimmerman, quit telling scary stories.  These boys will never get to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smallest one pipes up.  “Tell us, papa, tell us the story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flip picks him up and kisses his cheek.  “Later,” he says.  “When your mama’s not giving me the evil eye.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Borg</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clyde's Halloween costume is something else.  Jimmy can't stop laughing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Mommy, mommy.” One of your littles comes running out of the bedroom, shouting.  You catch her as she slides to a stop in her butterfly outfit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, baby girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy is all dressed.  Uncle Jimmy turned him into a BOARD.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your other one saunters out, looking more like his daddy every day.  “Not a board, silly.  A borg, like a cyborg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first one rolls her eyes and flaps her wings for a second.  “Whatever,” she huffs, like the tiny monster she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimmy Logan stumbles out clapping and laughing.  “Oh, girl, you have got to see this,” he says, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your tall handsome husband walks out slowly, dressed in a dark green jumpsuit.  You gasp as you see his mechanical arm move to point to his face.  He has metallic stickers stuck around one eye, down his cheek, and an eye patch with a variety of flat metal circles and washers--one of them has a blinking red light.  Jimmy has wired Clyde up with small red lights all around his arms and legs that flash as he moves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t see nothing,” Clyde says, sounding a little grumpy.  His plush lips press together, making you want to squish his face and kiss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kids are delighted.  They dance around their father.  It was their idea to dress him like a Borg and he could never turn them down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, sweetie,” you say, walking over to him to look into his one eye.  “You look so special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m missing a hand already from the Logan curse and now my children took my eye, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, daddy.  We got you,” the littlest one says and slips her hand into her daddy’s big paw.  “Let’s get in the car and go to Trunk or Treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Reverend opened up the church parking lot for the cars to do Trunk or Treat for the kiddos.  You are on your way there for the festivities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimmy waves goodbye with a last giggle and heads off to meet up with his family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pack up the spoonbread and the bags of candy good and tight behind the seats of the truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde takes off his eye patch and says to his oldest, who expresses some disappointment.  “I have to drive, son.  I can’t do it with one eye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do it just fine with one hand,” you murmur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde gives you the side-eye.  “You best watch yourself, little missy,” he murmurs, leaning over the seat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grin and bat your lashes at him.  He raises his brows at you for a moment.  The metallic sticker threatens to come off, so you smooth it back down, while looking into your handsome husband’s sweet brown eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” you breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He replies against your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chorus of yucks emanate from the back seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, young-uns,” Clyde rumbles.  “Better that than us fighting like cats and dogs all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much better,” your older one replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde shoots him a look in the mirror.  “That so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn and stare at your child until he subsides with a small huff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde pulls into the parking lot with all the other trucks and cars. He finds a space and lines up the truck for handing out treats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You all jump out.  Clyde puts his patch back on and tells his oldest boy not to run off too far with friends.  Your little butterfly waits patiently for her dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me, daddy,” she chirps.  She grabs a Halloween bag.  Clyde offers her his big arm.  She takes it like a tiny queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This my daddy,” she says to a passerby.  “He’s a BOARD.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Wonder Woman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Here's the last ficlet of our Sweet Treats.<br/>Ben Solo vs. Wonder Woman!  Who will win the day?</p><p>Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ben,” you call from the doorway.  “Wait up.  There’s something wrong with this…”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your tall, beautiful husband pauses with the little Wonder Woman and her bag for treats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll wait out here.”  Wonder Woman is very excited and can’t be still.  She’s struggling to remain on the porch.  Fortunately, Ben is holding her with one big paw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You kneel to rework the zipper on the alligator jacket.  “You zipped this up yourself?” you ask the child standing in front of you with the whiskey brown eyes.  So like his dad’s.  You put his hood up and survey the fake cloth teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, proudly.  It’s out of alignment and the zipper is stuck halfway up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for you,” you say, while you jimmie it back open and re-zip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!”  You hear Ben’s voice roar.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stand and pull your small alligator out on the porch just in time to see Ben running full bore down the street, sweater bouncing.  His giant feet are like pistons, his well-muscled legs eating up the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs little Miss Wonder Woman just in time--right before she reaches the corner and runs to her friend’s house to start Trick or Treating without proper supervision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch in bemusement as Ben lifts his child into the air, costume and all.  She screeches and kicks her father.  He holds her over his head and looks into her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thank you,” he barks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares at him, mouth open before wailing again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh.  She’s a handful, feral and noisy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben shakes his head at you and waves one big hand.  He’s always ready to do battle with the little gremlin.  He knows what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one hand, Bens pulls up his sweater.  It’s old, well-worn, big, and loose.  It has an oft-mended hole in it that keeps reopening whenever he wears it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his baby girl toward his chest, like he did when she was born, and he drops the sweater over top of her.  You hear her muffled cries and snorts as Ben carries her back to the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Package delivery,” he says with a smile.  “I believe this is yours.  One screaming toddler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh.  “All mine,” you say, as you reach to take your flushed, snuffly girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, she is.”  He bends to give you--and her--a kiss.  “And she’s just like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So sorry,” you say ruefully.  You remember what a handful you were when the two of you met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shows you the hole in the sweater and laughs fondly.  “No need.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.”</span>
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